


Winchesters in the Attic

by Deadmockingbirds



Category: Flowers in the Attic - V. C. Andrews, Supernatural
Genre: (X 2), 1950's themes, AU, Age Swap, As Happy an Ending as this story can get, Canonical Character Death, Child Abuse, Dean does ballet, Dean wears a dress, Dean wears panties, Desired Feminization, Disturbing Themes, Forced Feminization, Gen, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Neglect, Non-Consensual Spanking, Poisoning of Children, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sad, Sexist Language, Sexist themes, Sibling Incest, Some OOC, Starvation, Underage Sex, Violence, Wincest - Freeform, general awfulness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-13
Updated: 2017-06-13
Packaged: 2018-11-13 12:55:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11185551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deadmockingbirds/pseuds/Deadmockingbirds
Summary: Have you ever read Flowers in the Attic?  This is Flowers in the Attic, Winchester/Mock Style.After losing their mother in a horrific car accident, the Winchesters are left with no money and no home.  Their father convinces them of greener pastures; once his father forgives him, they'll be rich beyond imagination.  Until that time, the children must be hidden away, where no one can see them or hear them, left in the cruel care of their ruthless grandmother.





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi *waves*
> 
> For those of you who are new to my writing, welcome. For those of you who are not, I bet you're asking, "Mock, why are you starting new stories when we wanna hear what's happening in the WIPs you've already got going on?" Also, you're likely to think I'm going to forget all about those. Well I'm here to say it's for the sake of all my other stories I write this. I don't know how other people's processes go, but with mine, I need to feel rounded. I felt like something was missing from what I was writing and I wasn't quite sure what that was, but I do know this filled that feeling. I've been wanting to write this story for a LONG-ASS time. 
> 
> That said, I have plenty of stuff written for other stories. 2 chapters for For You, A fun chapter for WW and even something for Color of Hope coming. I have 10K done in an ABO Verse I wrote @MajesticDuxk for her birthday I've got coming (also brand new) and something, another new story, for @KreweofImp half written. I've been a busy writing bee in between taking some courses and writing a presentation I did last week. Phew! *wipes brow*
> 
> But this has been itching at me and I really wanted to get it posted to encourage me to write the whole thing.
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> **Extreme Warnings**
> 
>  
> 
> This story is fucking disturbing. It's filled with terrible things and I can't believe I read it when I was twelve -- if my mama only knew what I was reading! Back then, there was no such thing as tagging, but today, lucky for you -- Tagging! 
> 
> I decided to put the warnings in the tags, so read those. Not only is this story extremely disturbing, but also very triggering. If you choose to go forward from here, that is a choice you have to live with and I will not take blame for that choice. 
> 
> Because this is Wincest and likely to attract different readers from my usual, I have rules for commenting on my page, which protect my muse who can only write under certain conditions: http://archiveofourown.org/users/Deadmockingbirds/profile 
> 
> I thank you in advance for abiding these so I can keep writing for you! <3 And if you do like it, for the love of Pete tell me so I feel confident enough to keep posting -- I'm scared as Hell to post this. 
> 
> I'm going to tell this story in my own little way. A LOT of it will be straight from V.C Andrews's twisted mind (aka. just like the book) but I'm going to add my own Mock twists and turns to it and jazz it up SPN style. Soooo both expect a lot of the Original and a lot of deviation. 
> 
> All in all, I hope I do this story justice and that you enjoy. It's taken me several attempts to get this to where it is. Fucked up as it is, it's still the most haunting book I've ever read and also one of my favourites. 
> 
> Love Mock  
> xoxoxo

PROLOGUE

Every time I sit down to write this I can't. I know it's because I don't want to. Every fiber of my being, fights with pain and anguish for me not to write. It's because to write it, means to live it all over again. Sure I've got books, journals – a whole account with which to draw from, stuff I could just transfer to type and send off to a publisher to have at it with, but that wouldn't do justice to what happened. For you see, we'll never get true justice for what happened to us and it's only through my words on these pages that we can even hope to recover a little of what we lost. I have to tell the story with vivid memory to make it real, make the reader live it with us. To get the fullest sense of what those walls held in that grim attic that to this day is haunted with our ghosts.

And paper flowers.

As I close my eyes now, I can still see them, once brightly colored, but soon fading duller as they withered, like we did through those dreary days, shrouded in grey. They're still as stone waiting for the children who will never come back to them. It's for those children, for the five of us, that I have to write no matter how difficult.

I write for every bit of stolen laughter, for every bit of sunshine we would never see, for every promise made and broken time and time again. I write this, so that for all the times we starved for love and food and safety, that perhaps someday that little person inside each of us will finally feel full.


	2. Goodbye Momma

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story will be told some parts in past tense and some in present tense voice, but technically, it all takes place in the past. I did it this way to give it a certain feel.

_Momma was beautiful and Daddy loved her so._

"What you doin' Dean?" Sam asks. He's not in a good mood. I'm supposed to be the negative one, but things are different now.

"Writing." I don't tell him what. It'll piss him off. More. It's been a long time since he remembered Dad in a good light and even longer since he's let himself think of Momma.

"I need your ass downstairs. The triplets are driving me nuts."

I guess our story will have to wait. Maybe that's good. I hope this isn't where it ends – you usually tell a story you know the ending to.

Michael's beating the crap out of Adam, Cas is throwing pillows at them both. "You grab Mikey, I'll grab Cas?"

I'm surprised they're this misbehaved. They usually don't act up this much for Sam – he'll spank first and ask questions later.

I grab Mikey, restraining his wrists and Sam grabs Cas, giving him a swat to his bottom. "Hey!" Cas complains.

Michael glares at me, but seeing Cas get swatted sobers him, hoping he won't get the same. "What's the deal, bud?"

"He needs to be bigger. Why's he so little, Dean?"

I look to Sam. This is weird. "Adam's fine. Apologize."

"I won't."

"Fine. You can go to bed early with a spanking then," Sam says.

"Sorry, Adam," Michael says tearing away from me and running to the other side of the room to cry quietly. I let him in favor of consoling Adam, who's also crying. Cas is the only one not crying.

I lift Adam to me. I've grown some, since we've been here, but Adam never grows. Cas is right, he is small and tinier than the other two. It's gotten easier for me to pick him up. "C'mon, Adam. Don't cry."

"I, I'm hungry Momma," he says, forgetting I'm not really his momma – that it's just a game we play.

Yeah. I'm fucking hungry too. I look to Sam. _What should we do?_ We've gotten a crash course on parenting, me and Sam. Food solves a lot of problems with four-year-olds.

He let's go 'a Cas, nodding. "Let's eat somethin'," he says heading for the basket.

"C'mon back, Michael. You don't want to miss food, do you?"

He's wiping his eyes and running to me, grabbing onto my leg. "I'm sorry. Don't hate me."

"Couldn't if I wanted to."

We sit the triplets properly at the little table and Sam pulls out some of the cold, fried chicken, fruit and even some of the cheese. We got cheese today, we haven't had cheese in a long time. There are plates, which Sam hands me. Despite the fact I'm a boy, I got the girl's role in this deal, being like a Momma more than a Daddy. I don't mind so much. The triplets need it. Sam likes it.

Sam's in charge of the food, like he's the Father who went out and earned it and I serve it like the Momma does. The triplets know not to touch until everyone is served and Sam says grace. That's not our rule. We've been fucking instructed to do that and since Grandmother seems walk in on us in the most inopportune times, we do as we're told not wanting to risk her wrath. But even that I don't mind so much. Saying grace is no big deal. "Amen. Let's eat," Sam says.

~THEN~

When I was very young, life was like an endless summer day. It was the fifties and I believed it couldn't get any better than it was. In hindsight, I was right. I wish I didn't know now, what I didn't know then. I wish I could jump back into that life with Sammy how he was – my eternal optimist, instead of the tarnished silver he's become. The triplets chubby-faced and carefree, with none of the melancholy their faces have become haunted with. Fucking breaks my heart if I think about it too long, so I don't.

Our daddy worked for a big company and he was awesome. Tall, dark hair, devastatingly handsome, at least two hundred and ten pounds; with giant shoulders and all the commanding presence in the world. Daddy's boss loved him; we had him over for dinner often where he'd lavish Daddy with compliments. It made the awe I already felt for him increase. I remember agreeing in my head with every nice thing the man said about Daddy and how lucky we were to have him for ours. His eyes were deep and what everyone called Winchester blue. They sparkled just a bit when he laughed his rich laugh that tingled with the zest of life we all wanted to catch. He was fit, always playing golf, or tennis, even horseback riding. He worked a lot to provide the kind of life Momma wanted, so he was always flitting off to California, Florida, Arizona, even Hawaii.

Back then, it was just the three of us, Sammy, Momma and I, and when Friday would come (Daddy came home Fridays no matter what he had to do to get home to us) he'd come in the door booming, "Come greet me with kisses if you love me!"

Sammy and I would be behind a couch, or behind something near the front door and when he'd call out his greeting, like he always did, we'd bound out of our hiding places and Daddy'd scoop us up, showering us with kisses. "Oh my boys. My boys, I've missed you," he'd say.

He'd bring us home gifts, which he kept in his pockets to give us immediately, versus the larger ones stowed in his suitcase, which were for after he'd greet Momma, who'd wait patiently in the background until he finished with us. We knew to give them their moment. Sammy and I would back off as Momma would glide into Daddy's arms and he'd stare at her like he hadn't seen her in years, falling in love with her all over again.

Momma was beautiful and Daddy loved her so. He treated her like a princess. I loved watching her get herself beautiful, for when Daddy would come home Fridays. A large portion of her Friday was spent at the beauty salon, but then she'd come home to take a perfume-oil bath and while she put on make-up and pearls in her silk negligee, I'd watch fascinated as she'd turn from a pretty woman to something sublime and otherworldly – like an angel. "Do you like them, Dean?" Momma would ask.

"He sure does," Sammy said, bounding in and pushing me. "But not on you Momma, he wants to wear'em."

"Shut up. I do not." He was such a stupid older brother then. We always loved each other, but we also teased each other mercilessly.

"Enough you two. I don't mind if Dean wants to wear them."

"I don't Momma," I protested glaring at Sam hard for that. I didn't want Momma thinking that of me. He smiled.

Sam was always like that. A bit of a pest. He liked getting my goat, but it was because he thought I shouldn't be so serious all the time. He was the sunnier one between the two of us and was always trying to nudge me under the light.

But I did like watching Momma get beautiful. She was the prettiest thing – all the neighbors thought so too – nothing made me sunnier than that.

~**~

One day, we came home from school to Momma's excited voice calling us from the living room. "Dean, Sam! Take your boots off and come in here – I have something to tell you."

We kicked off our boots and raced into the living room with its plush white carpet, Momma decorated to suit her. It was the room for entertaining and we weren't invited in here often; was pretty much off limits to us. I felt uncomfortable going into that room, but was excited for an invitation nonetheless. Daddy's room was much more relaxing, with its old leather sofa and dark walls where Sam and I could wrestle and play and never feel like we were gonna break anything. "It's freezin' out there Momma," I said warming myself by the fire. "But it's freaking awesome too – saw an icicle big as my arm."

Sammy wasn't as exuberant as I was that day. Being two years older and as usual, far wiser than I, he knew something was up; his face showed concern. "Momma, are you feelin' all right?" he asked taking up a spot by her feet where she sat in her rocking chair.

"Sure am," she said smiling. "Maybe a bit tired."

Sam knew that was a clue before I did as I warmed my hands listening to them, my excitement over giant icicles forgotten. "I'm okay, Sam. Really, but I did see the doctor today."

This did nothing to dim Sam's worry. "Samuel Winchester, I know what you're thinking and stop. I'm good, really good. Promise." She reached out to push back his long dark hair, which Momma always told him looked like Daddy's. "Darlings, I'm going to have a baby. In fact, when I saw the doctor today, he said he's sure he heard _three_ heartbeats. That means there will be three babies."

That explained something. Momma was always a thin woman, but she had been getting a little pudgy around the middle – not in a bad way, just out of her norm. It didn't change anything, she was still a goddess, but of course I knew better than to say anything.

"Don't tell Daddy yet. I haven't even told him yet – I wanted to make absolute sure first."

I looked to Sam to see what he thought of this new development. We already had the perfect family, but now we were getting not just one, but _three_ new people joining. What if that messed things up?

He was smiling, but also a little embarrassed that he'd assumed Momma might be sick. His happiness made me more anxious and pissed. Not even he could see what a colossal fuck up this could be. I ran to my room and destroyed it. I was the baby of the family and I didn't want three more to come take my fucking place. After my room was thoroughly trashed, I cried angry tears into my pillow. I wanted to hurt things and people and then I wanted to run the fuck away. I was going to get forgotten. I wouldn't be thought of anymore – it would be all about the new babies.

Momma came and knocked softly on the door. "Dean?" said Momma, "may I come in?"

"Go away! I already hate your stupid babies!"

~**~

My father was next when he came home that night. I refused to go down and greet him, but I did unlock the door just in case he wanted to come see me. He slipped inside and with him, he had a box wrapped in shiny, silver paper. He sat on the bed where I was, staring up at the ceiling and feeling sorry for myself. "Dean?" he said. "You didn't come greet me. That's hurtful. I missed you and looked forward to a hug from you."

I couldn't say anything to him. I was too mad, so mad just looking at him was making my blood boil. I rolled to my side and glared at the wall, but not before he saw the pure hatred on my face. I was supposed to be his favorite. Why did he and Momma have to get more children? Weren't Sam and I enough?

"This is the first time you've looked at me that way Dean, and haven't greeted me when I came home, it makes me sad. Maybe you're too angry to understand this right now, but it's the highlight of my week – coming home to you guys."

Now his highlight was having a million babies. Nothing he was saying was winning me over. I know now I was acting like a spoiled brat, but then, at seven-years-old, I felt righteous. I felt like I was being replaced – I just knew he would have his truck load of babies and forget all about me.

"You know, I thought Dean knew how special he was to me beyond gifts and even more children because we had a special bond right here in our hearts that no one else had."

"But when the new babies come, I won't be the baby anymore, it'll make me less special." I always selfishly believed Daddy loved me just a little bit better because I was the baby and although I was a boy, I was a different kind of boy. One that was a little like a girl in some ways.

"Will it?" I thought I heard amusement in his voice.

I turned to face him, making him feel the full force of my anger. "Of course. You'll love them more and who wouldn't? They'll be all little and cute and new." The shiny new pennies, while I'd be the old. "And what if there's a girl?" Somehow, that would be worse. "You'll like her better than me." She'd be a real girl, unlike me – some kinda mutant half and half.

He shook his head. "I may love them as much, but not _more_." He held his arms open for me and I couldn't hold back another second. I threw myself into his arms crying anew. "Shhh. You won't be loved any less, don't be jealous dear one. You're going to love them when they get here, you'll see. You'll be able to show them things, teach them. And Momma's gonna need your help. I'll feel much better knowing she's got you. I know how much you like looking at dolls, even if you never let me get you any. Real babies are more fun than dolls." Even then, Daddy knew I fit a less traditional role as a boy. While most boys my age were already into thinking what they'd be when they grew up so they could support a family, I never thought about that stuff. I thought more about looking after one, like a Momma.

I knew not to talk about it. That it wasn't normal or accepted. I didn't like them to talk about it much either. It was enough for me knowing Daddy, Momma and Sam accepted me for who I was. What if the new babies didn't?

I never wanted to _be_ a girl. I just… sometimes wanted to do the things society seemed to label as Girl Things.

I liked Boy Things too, though. I was always a boy I just liked things I wasn't supposed to.

"Now come see what I got you."

I did, but only after squeezing the life out of him to make up for how I'd hurt him by not coming to greet him and hating him like I did.

Inside, was a beautiful, silver music box. Music played and a little ballerina in a pink tutu spun before a tiny mirror. "It's a jewel box and I knew soon as I saw it, you had to have it," he said pulling something else out of his pocket. "I know you won't wear pearls – Momma told me – but I thought you might wear this," he explained showing me the necklace. It was a tiny little, horn-headed creature, made out of some kind of metal, hung around a leather thong. Daddy put it over my head, so it could sit around my neck. "And with this necklace, I vow forever, to love my Dean just a little bit more than any other daughter, or son, so long as he keeps that to himself."

~**~

When the babies were expected to arrive that May, Daddy hung around and so did our babysitter, Mrs. Simpson, who lived next door. She came by to make meals and help with chores. I never figured out why our parents liked her – she never had a nice thing to say and was always commenting on how Momma and Daddy looked more like brother and sister. It wasn't in a complementary way either. I didn't like her much. But of course that was the way – between Sam and I, I was the negative one always viewing things pessimistically. She stayed with us, while Daddy went to the hospital. "When I'm back, we'll know what we've got – more boys, some girls, or maybe an assortment!"

Daddy looked tired when he came to fetch us; unshaven, uncharacteristically dressed in jeans and a worn t-shirt. "So? Guess? What do we have?" he said, his eyes lit up with tired excitement.

"Boys," Sam said knowing how much I didn't want any of them, but most of all a little girl, a thing which I could barely explain myself.

"Girls," I said, thinking of course I'd get the thing I didn't want.

Daddy winked at us. "Three little boys. Most darling things you ever did see. C'mon, I'll take y'all to see."

It was the best news I could have hoped for, but now, the babies were here and more real than they'd been as they grew in Momma's tummy. I knew our lives were about to change forever.

Daddy had to hold me up, so I could see them through the window of the nursery. Two of them were screaming bloody murder, while one quietly slept on, sucking his soother. I really expected I would hate them, especially the fucking loud ones, Michael and Cas, who were both so different from the quiet one called Adam. It was impossible to get a full night's sleep anymore, but before I knew it, I was racing home to see them. I forgot all about being jealous and took up a nurturing role, feeding, changing and burping them. I ended up fucking adoring them. Much as I loved the three boys, though, I sorta wished there was a girl one too; I would have loved having a sister.

They _were_ better than dolls -- I was just a helpful older brother, rather than a boy playing with dolls. And I was never loved any less. In fact, Daddy looked on at me with more pride than before when he saw how well I took care of my baby brothers.

Momma worried over them constantly though. She'd comment on how they weren't growing as quickly as Sam and I did, even though I thought they were growing like weeds. The doctor assured her that it was common for triplets to grow more slowly than single births at this age. "See?" Sam said. "Doctors know everything."

Daddy looked up from his coffee. "That's my son, the doctor talking—but I'm afraid no one knows everything Mr. Winchester."

Daddy was the only one who called my brother that.

When the triplets turned four, Sam was fourteen and I had just turned twelve.

We were preparing for a very special Friday – it was Daddy's birthday and we were putting on a surprise party for him. Some of our closest friends would be there. Momma looked more beautiful than she ever had, glowing like the angel she was. I remember admiring the string of pearls around her neck and thinking how nicely they complimented her silky, blonde hair. She'd had a special dress made for the occasion. She looked like a queen.

"Dean," Momma said, "would you mind bathing the triplets again? They were bathed before their naps, but they got into the sandbox after and they're dirty again. I've got to run a special errand."

I didn't mind. Even without the errand, Momma was far too fancy to deal with three dirty little boys who we all know liked to splash around in the tub getting everything in vicinity wet. "Yes, Momma."

"Then you two in the tub to bathe," she instructed. "No blue jeans. I want you both in dress shirts, ties, sport jackets and the cream slacks you wear to fancy events."

Sam didn't like the news. "Aw heck, Momma. I hate dressing up."

"Do as I say, Samuel, for your father. He does lots of nice things for us, least we can do is look nice and make him proud."

He took off in a mood, leaving me to deal with three little boys who were also not thrilled. "We don't _need_ two baths Dean!" Michael cried, when I tried to grab him. "We're already clean. Stop! Stop!"

"Yeah, _we_ don't like soap, or gettin' our hair washed," Cas spoke up, both of them talking on behalf of the three of them as usual. "Don't you dare, or we'll tell Momma!"

"Joke's on you three," I said. "Who do you think sent me to fetch y'all? Lordy, how can three little boys get so dirty so fast?"

Of course, once I had them in the bath, set up with their rubber ducks and other toys, they didn't want out, but I somehow managed to get them clean as porcelain dolls and looking pretty in their little suits. I brushed Cas and Michael's dark hair 'till it was gleaming, but with Adam, he got our Mother's fair blonde hair and, he managed to get the cutest curls that Momma told us come from her side, so I just ran my fingers through it. The triplets agreed that was better than getting it brushed. "Whycome our hair's not like that, Dean?" Cas asked.

"Yeah, I want that," Michael said.

"Well you can't. It's Adam's special hair. You two got Daddy's manes like Sammy." I didn't have the curls, but my hair was fairer like Momma's. Adam and I were similar that way.

After convincing them their hair was just as nice, I handed them over to Sam, so I could doll myself up. "Keep a close eye on them," I warned him knowing how much trouble they could get into in a second.

I heard a lot of wailing and complaining across the hall, as I showered and dressed quickly, making sure to do my hair nice. In between, I took a quick look to see Sam in their bedroom, piled onto Cas's bed, trying to entertain them with a book. "Hey," he said when I came into view. "You look all right."

"Just all right? That all you can manage?"

"All I can manage for a brother." He looked at his watch. "Hurry up Dean—Daddy will be here any minute!"

~**~

Five o'clock was fast approaching, but Momma still wasn't back yet. She called us from a payphone. "Dean, sorry, I'm held up. Not sure when I'll be back. You'll have to go ahead with the surprise without me," she said. Sam and I were disappointed she was going to miss the surprise she'd worked so hard to plan for Daddy.

When Daddy blew in the door, all smiles and booming voice like always, we were half-assed in our greeting and Daddy knew right way something was up. He looked on at us with concern, barely noticing the guests. "Where's your mother?"

"She stepped out to pick up something for you, but she hasn't come back yet," Sam informed him. "She said she'd be late."

He nodded. "I'm sure she'll be back soon. Let's be hospitable to our guests. Sam make sure they have drinks, Dean keep an eye on the triplets and I'll make sure the food's okay in the oven and on the stovetop."

I didn't think Daddy should have to do any work on his birthday, but we always did as our father said. This was no different. "Yes, sir," Sam said.

Sam often said things like 'yes sir'. He said it was what Daddy had said to call him when he issued an order, but Daddy had never said that to me. I knew it was respectful, and sometimes, when I was in trouble, I said it out of respect, but since Daddy seemed okay with me calling him Daddy, I considered it just another one of our special little things. Meanwhile, Sam took great pride in calling him Sir.

I kept the triplets occupied, but nothing could distract my mind from watching the time and noticing that Momma was still not home. Daddy was worried too, but there was no reason to think anything had happened. The meal Momma had prepared and set in the oven was drying out. Seven o'clock was the time the triplets were usually put to bed and on top of not eating a proper meal, they were hungry and getting fucking hangry. "I wanna eat, Dean!" Cas complained.

I looked over to Daddy, who darted his eyes to the appetizer table. Yeah, that wasn't gonna work so well. The triplets had already decided that anything aside from bread and cheese, was not on their 'to eat' list and I didn't want them spoiling their dinner with only bread and cheese. I tried anyway. "How about some fruit, guys?"

" _We_ , don't like fruit Dean. It's slimy," Michael announced for all of them.

"Starve then." I was in no mood. I was worried about Momma. Why wasn't she back yet? Adam's nose was running and I needed to grab him a Kleenex for that anyway, so I went off to do that. Cas and Michael could punch each other out for all I cared.

Sam was getting antsy too, looking over at me like I had the answer this time. "Momma said she'd be back and she will," I promised him.

"Maybe she found a better offer, John, eh?" said Jim Daniels, one of Daddy's friends. Daddy glared at him and so did his wife for making such a tasteless joke.

Even Daddy was doing a bit of pacing though, checking the window every few minutes for her car. "I know she was putting together a surprise for me, but maybe it's time to tell me where she went, kids?" Daddy said.

Problem is, we didn't even know. She hadn't told us. But it was just as he said that, we all caught sight of a car turning into our driveway from the large bay window. "Maybe that's Momma now," I said, hoping to Christ it was. The night was already cloaked in an eerie feel; Momma coming home was the only way to lift that.

But it wasn't Momma; it was the State Police.

Jim Daniels answered the door, while Daddy stood frozen. The two state troopers entered and I could see their demeanor change to something even more somber when they noticed the balloons and the gifts and the party guests. "Mr. John Winchester?" one of the men said looking about the room.

Daddy half-raised his hand to let them know he was Mr. John Winchester and the state trooper stepped closer as I began gathering triplets. Adam first, always – he was the smallest – then Cas, who for all his screeching needed affection like any four-year-old, grabbed onto my leg. I was out of available body-space, so Sam grabbed Michael, who set his head on Sam's shoulder. The triplets were too small to know what was happening, but even they were tired and stern-looking strangers made them nervous.

"Mr. Winchester, we're sorry, there's been an accident…"

"Oh," Daddy said, not believing what was happening.

"Your wife was involved," the man said, releasing the information in chunks as my heart slowly broke. I wasn't like Sam, who was probably waiting for them to get to the point in the story where they tell us she's just badly injured, but she's in the hospital recovering, I knew then, in that moment, we were never going to see Momma alive again.

"It wasn't her fault," he continued. "A drunk driver supposedly weaving in and out of traffic almost hit your wife head on, but witnesses saw her swerve to avoid hitting him. Only, a piece of machinery that must have fallen on the road from another vehicle kept her from completing the defensive maneuver that would have saved her life. As it was, your wife's car turned over several times. She might have survived this if not for the oncoming truck that wasn't able to stop in time, her car turned over some more and eventually caught fire."

So what he was telling us, was that our beautiful momma, went up in flames.

I got it instantly, but Daddy, he was in shock. "You're not saying… my wife, she's okay?"

The trooper shook his head. "It pains me to bring you this news on what I can see was supposed to be a joyous occasion, but no Mr. Winchester. Your wife, she was killed pretty quickly."

A few of the guests broke out into wails, but Daddy quietly sunk to his knees. His eyes were wide and shocked, face drained and pale looking, all the life vanishing from his handsome face.

Tears were already filling my eyes. "No! No!" I screamed. "It wasn't, it couldn't have been," I shouted, even though I knew it was. "Get out! Get out of here," I said to the state trooper, "s-she'll be home any minute." I put Adam down and pulled away from Cas at my feet who whined. I lunged toward the officer.

Daddy was suddenly there, having recovered from his shock long enough to pull me away from the officer and toss me over to Sam. "Keep him under control," Daddy said and Sam did, locking me in his free arm until I gave in and sobbed quietly, while the state troopers finished speaking with Daddy.

When the troopers were done, it was a cacophony of guests taking care of other guests and of us. Someone took Michael from Sam, leaving us to stand hollow and broken with Daddy and another someone took Cas and Adam, fed them and put them to bed. I looked up to my brother who was trying to hold it together, but failing. I could see the grief in his eyes, while he tried to show how strong he could be.

Out of his pocket, the state trooper pulled a half-broken string of pearls that seemed to have survived when Momma didn't. They were definitely Momma's pearls, round, fat and solid. I had a flash of how they looked around Momma's neck just hours ago, and I lost it. I ran from the room, breaking away from Sam and out through the kitchen into the backyard. I punched and kicked trees until things bled. I threw whatever was in my path and knelt on the grass, ripping at it, getting the nice pants Momma told me to put on, for the last time, grass-stained and dirty. I cried until my eyes hurt thinking of those stupid pearls. I thought about how the triplets were only just getting to know her, how they'd never know her now, I thought about how we'd have to somehow go on living without her.

It felt like a long time and like no time at all, when my father came out to fetch me. The stars were out, twinkling in the sky, _stars Momma would never see again_ , and the moon was a bright, glowing crescent. Daddy sat on the grass beside me. "Dean. It's late, why don't you come inside?"

"She's not dead." I continued to pick at the grass fucking angry at everything.

"C'mon Dean. Sam's on his bed crying, the triplets are asleep – they don't quite know what dead means – you've been out here too long by yourself. I thought you were with the others. It's not good for you to be alone at a time like this."

Maybe not, but I didn't want anything to do with anyone ever again.

He took my hand and tugged me up anyway and I had no choice but to follow him inside.


End file.
